


An Unexpected Discovery

by scarletmanuka



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Greg's POV, M/M, Sexting, Sibling Incest, Smut, Somehow emotions Got Involved, Texting, Threesome - M/M/M, holmescest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-05 15:40:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11581077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletmanuka/pseuds/scarletmanuka
Summary: Whilst leaving his cousin's wedding, Greg sees Sherlock and Mycroft in a compromising position. He decides to confront them but finds himself propositioned.





	1. Pity Party

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Darkfairyforever22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkfairyforever22/gifts).



> Gifted to Pandalara and Darkfairyforever22 because they have excellent taste in Detective Inspectors.

Making his way on wobbly legs across the hotel lobby, Greg reached the bank of elevators and pressed the UP button. He leaned against the wall as he waited for the lift to arrive, unsure if he could remain standing unaided. He had drunk way too much at his cousin Casey’s wedding reception, but considering he wife had only just moved out after she refused to attend marriage counselling with him, he figured he was entitled to some liquid courage to make it through a night meant to celebrate love and commitment. He’d remained seated at a table in the far corner for the whole of the evening and hadn’t caused a fuss or embarrassed either himself or Casey so he figured no one could complain overly much.

The lift dinged and the doors slid open, and Greg poured himself into the carriage. He hit the button for his floor, glad he had splurged on a room for the night instead of having to drag his sorry arse across town back to his house. Grace had packed a suitcase but the majority of her belongings were still there and the way he was feeling tonight, he would either sob himself to sleep atop a pile of her clothes, or burn every last item she owned. He oscillated rather evenly between the two desires on any given day, but the booze would probably make the latter seem a much more satisfying outcome. The sooner she left Whatshisname’s bed and got her cheating arse back home to take her shit, the better.

He reached his floor and stumbled from the lift, digging in the pocket of his suit for his room key. The well stocked mini bar was calling his name and he figured another drink or two before he passed out was well worth the exorbitant bill he’d have come checkout. He’d just plucked the plastic card from his pocket when a moan from around the corner of the hallway caught his attention. His policeman senses kicked in, despite being so intoxicated, and he listened intently. Moans came in various forms and a moan of pain could often be mistaken for a moan of desire. It was likely someone was just getting lucky ( _ bastard _ ) but there was also a chance someone was hurt. Drunk or not, Greg couldn’t face his conscience if he didn’t check it out.

He slipped down the hallway and peeked around the corner, just as another moan rang out, followed quickly by a throaty giggle. He got an eye full of two people against the wall, lips locked in a passionate kiss and he quickly began to pull back, not particularly wanting yet another reminder that there were people in the world who managed to have much more successful relationships than he did. He froze suddenly as he realised he recognised the man with his back to him. 

Ebony curls (slightly more mussed than usual no thanks to the slender hand that was tightened in them), the familiar coat, and the curve of the back were enough for Greg to recognise the man as Sherlock. Of course, the DI would never have imagined he’d ever see the Consulting Detective in such a position - knee pushed between some bloke’s thighs (because the second participant in the world’s hottest kiss competition was most definitely a man), one hand twisted in a crisp button up shirt, the other curled around so it cupped the man’s arse. And the  _ noises _ he was making - they were so erotic they should be illegal. 

Greg slumped against the wall, unable to pull his eyes away. Ever since he’d met Sherlock, he’d had a bit of a crush on him. Who wouldn’t? Apart from being the smartest man in the room, his lithe form, tailored suits, mulit coloured eyes, and cheekbones you could cut yourself on just screamed  _ fuck me _ . But Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective didn’t  _ do _ something so ordinary as have relationships, did he? Not once in all their years of association had he ever even glanced at someone with desire in his eyes. Whenever a hot piece of arse (male or female) walked by, he would never join in with the appreciative stares, and the lewd comments afterwards. To be fair, Greg didn’t really either, having always been true to Grace, though that hadn’t stopped him from staring appreciatively at Sherlock had it? So he was a hypocrite, so what? 

Now though, Greg had solid evidence that Sherlock Holmes  _ did _ partake in carnal activities like every other pleb in existence. The next time he made some cutting remark about base desires, Greg was going to throw this in his face. In fact, why wait? What were the chances that he’d ever get another opportunity like this? Sherlock had been an absolute arse to Greg over the years, and the prat deserved a little payback. An embarrassing encounter with a colleague seemed just the thing this fine Saturday evening. 

Having decided upon exacting his revenge, Greg pushed himself off the wall just as Sherlock and his friend decided that they’d be much better off taking themselves to their room. The curly haired detective whispered something to his companion, and then took his hand and turned, heading for the door opposite the wall they were up against. For the first time, Greg caught a look at the other man’s face. 

The whole world ground to a halt.

The man with the kiss crushed lips, tented trousers, and eyes only for Sherlock was none other than Mycroft ‘The British Government’ Holmes. Sherlock’s own big brother. 

Greg watched as they fell into their room, lips finding each other again as Mycroft kicked the door shut behind them, and then he was alone in the hallway. He slumped back against the wall, suddenly feeling much more sober than he had any right to be. He replayed what he had just seen in his head, the conclusion never changing - he had just witnessed a ( _ fucking hot _ ) act of incest. The two ( _ gorgeous _ ) men were brothers, and were blatantly breaking the law ( _ in the sexiest way imaginable _ ). 

Still shocked, he made his way slowly back around the corner and let himself into his own room. He went straight to the mini bar and opened the tiny bottle of whiskey and downed it in one swallow. He opened the vodka and did the same, and then chased that with the bottle of rum. He then placed his hands on top of the fridge and leaned forward, breathing hard, trying to determine what he should do. He again replayed the events he had witnessed in his head, and only belatedly did he realise he was hard in his pants. His mind helpfully supplied ideas about what could be going on in that room at this very moment. Clothes would be strewn across the floor, naked skin would be kissed and caressed, a lube bottle would be flipped open. His cock throbbed and he reached down and gave it a squeeze, trying to make it calm down. 

_ Dammit _ ! Why the fuck had he had to witness that? He had been blissfully ignorant, and now he not only knew that the brothers were breaking the law, but he also knew how fucking hot they were together. Worst of all was the sudden desire to be part of it, to be able to taste and touch and partake. He’d not had a shag in months - Grace had been too fucked by her boyfriend to be interested in her own husband, and now he had a visual to go along with all those fantasies he’d secretly harboured about the Consulting Detective. And a soundtrack.  _ Fuck _ . He now knew what Sherlock sounded like when moaning in desire.

Suddenly, he was angry. He didn’t  _ want _ to be in this position. He’d planned to come back to his room and drink himself into an even more pathetic state of self pity, and then pass out into blissful oblivion until the morning. Then he’d stop for an artery clogging fry up on the way home where he would nurse his hangover with a few beers and maybe a game of footy on the telly. But no, his plans were once again thwarted by Sherlock Bloody Holmes, Consulting Prat and Sexy Motherfucker. Well, he wasn’t going to stand for it! No, not today. Today, Gregory Charles Lestrade was going to give Sherlock a piece of his mind. He stormed from his room and made directly for the door he had seen the brothers disappearing into only ten minutes before and hammered loudly upon it.

There was no response initially, but Greg continued to pound on the door, and only when it got to the point where people would begin to complain was the door flung open. Sherlock was wearing one of the hotel issued bathrobes and it was obvious he had thrown it on in haste. It was also obvious he was naked beneath and Greg stridently kept his eyes above the waist so there would be no risk of catching a glimpse of what was beneath if the robe gaped open. 

“Lestrade?” Sherlock gaped at him, for once at a loss for words.

“Sherlock,” Greg replied, almost pleasantly. “Can I come in?” Without waiting for an answer, he pushed his way past a protesting Sherlock into the room. He looked around and didn’t see anyone else, but the door to the bathroom was closed and light was shining from underneath. 

“Lestrade, what the bloody hell do you want?” the detective demanded, slowly regaining his senses.

“Oh, just wanted to have a little chat.”

“You’re obviously very drunk. Why don’t you go back to your room and sleep it off and we can talk in the morning?” he said placatingly.

Greg walked over to the rumpled bed and happily sat on the side, spreading his arms wide as he did so. “Actually, I prefer to have this chat now.”

Sherlock looked furious but must have decided to humour him as he folded his arms and raised a brow. “Fine. Say what you’ve come here to say.”

“Oh, I will, but first, why don’t you ask that brother of yours to join us? It must be pretty boring hiding in the bathroom.”

He felt a surge of glee at the shocked expression on the younger man’s face, and then Sherlock was spluttering, “I have no idea  _ what _ you’re on about, Lestrade. You’re intoxicated and have no clue what you’re saying.”

He regarded him calmly for a long moment, and then raised his voice to call out, “Mycroft, you may as well come out - I know you’re in there.”

There was a moment of utter silence and then the bathroom door opened and the eldest brother stepped into the room, his dignity surrounding him as tightly as the bathrobe he wore. “Detective Inspector Lestrade, to what do we own the pleasure?” he asked, sounding for all the world like he was sitting behind his desk at The Diogenes Club instead of standing in a four star hotel room on London’s East side.

Greg grinned in triumph. “I just thought you should know,” he began, his words slurring together slightly, “that if you’re going to successfully hide an incestuous relationship from the world, it might be an idea to refrain from snogging in public.” He nodded emphatically at his own words. “And you call yourselves  _ geniuses _ .” And then he pitched backwards as the booze caught up with him and he passed out.


	2. Having 'The Talk' with Mycroft

The first thing Greg registered the following morning when he came back to consciousness was the pounding in his head. His eyes were stuck together with what felt like superglue and at some point during the night a cat must have crawled into his mouth and died - after taking a shit. He pried his eyes open and looked blearily around the room, his brain taking a short holiday and unable to help him figure out just where exactly he was.

He was in a hotel room, that much was clear, but it wasn’t the one he’d checked into. He was sprawled on the sofa and someone had removed his shoes and covered him with a blanket. He pushed the blanket off and sat up, rubbing at his face and willing himself to remember just what had happened. He’d left the wedding reception, headed up to his room, and then he’d seen...aha! He’d seen Sherlock. Oh, and Mycroft. And they’d been making out in the hallway. Oh, and then he’d come and yelled at them. Then what had happened?

“Ah, Detective Inspector - you’re awake!”

Greg looked over in the direction the cheerful voice had come from and he saw Mycroft Holmes stepping out of the bathroom, a glass of water held in one hand. The diplomat handed him the glass and he took it with a muted, “Cheers.”

“I’m just making coffee, I have a feeling you’ll be needing it considering you must have drank England’s entire supply of alcohol last night.”

He grunted, the exaggeration not that far off the truth from the way his head was feeling. He looked around the room again, then asked, “Where’s Sherlock?”

Mycroft finished doctoring their coffees (he’d made Greg’s exactly as he took it, even though he couldn’t remember Mycroft ever asking before) and then came across and handed over the beverage before taking a seat on the end of the bed. “My brother has gone out for a short while to give us the opportunity to talk.”

“I see. And just what are we going to be talking about?” Greg asked, a little defensively. “You going to tell me just what will happen to me if I open my mouth about what I saw? How I’ll be deported to some mosquito infested swamp somewhere with my British passport revoked?”

Mycroft actually looked shocked at this. “Good heavens, no. Sherlock seems to have convinced people that I reign supreme over all of England, but I can assure you, I do not.”

The silver haired inspector grunted, not believing this in the slightest.

Mycroft seemed to realise that there was no point in trying to convince him otherwise. “Sherlock is rather upset this morning and is concerned that you will cut all ties with him, as well as making sure that he can never work with the Yard again. He had worked himself into quite a state so I sent him out to get us some breakfast.”

“Why would he think I would do that?” Greg asked, aghast that the young man would ever think him capable of such a thing.

“Well we were both under the impression that you were rather disgusted by the revelation of the true nature of our relationship.”

He opened his mouth to protest this, and then closed it again, unsure actually of what his feelings on the matter were. Sure, he was shocked and had been rather angry ( _and don’t forget horribly, horribly turned on)_ but disgusted? Yes, it was something he’d always been taught was wrong, but the reasons for the taboo nature of such relationships didn’t really apply to the brothers, did they? Neither seemed to be coercing the other, they were both of age, and genetically stunted offspring weren’t in the realm of possibility. So what exactly _did_ he have a problem with? He couldn’t come up with a single reason that he could tell to Mycroft. Of course, there were several that he _couldn’t_ share - that he now knew Sherlock actually was a sexual being, but he was officially off limits? That the thought of the two brothers together made him achingly hard and he wanted to join in? That seeing them together had forever ruined him for anyone else?

He should have realised that he wouldn’t be able to keep his thoughts to himself. Mycroft’s eyes widened and his hands clasped in his lap. “Oh, I see.”

Greg sighed bitterly, knowing there was no point in denying it. “Don’t worry about me, Mycroft - you’re secret is safe with me. And there’s no way I would ever stop Sherlock from consulting with the Met. As long as you treat him right, you have nothing to fear from me. I’m sorry I interrupted your evening.” He stood to leave, but Mycroft rose and placed a hand on his chest, halting him.

“Please, Gregory - stay. I’m sure you have questions and I’d like to answer them so you have all the facts. If you leave now, those gaps will fester and you may find yourself not as comfortable with the situation as you claim to be.”

He could see the truth in this and so he nodded and sat back down on the sofa. “Alright, thanks - I appreciate that.”

“Fire at will,” the diplomat said, a hint of a smirk on his lips as he held his arms wide. The expression sent a wave of blood southwards and he crossed his legs to hide his burgeoning erection. _For fuck’s sake_. Just when did Mycroft Holmes turn into sex on legs? The man oozed confidence and his expression told Greg he knew exactly what he was doing. He was torn between telling him to fuck off and kissing the damn smirk off those lovely lips.

“How long?” he asked a little curtly, but unable to trust his voice to formulate a more articulate question.

“The first time Sherlock tried to seduce me, he was thirteen, and I was, quite frankly, shocked.” Greg’s eyes widened at this, sharing in the shock, but he remained quiet so Mycroft could continue. The eldest brother seemed happy to elaborate, even though he could have honestly answered the question with a single sentence. Greg appreciated the candidness. “I thought it to be one of his little experiments and I told him it wasn’t appropriate, and then I avoided him for the rest of my visit home. He tried again when he was fourteen, and then again when he was fifteen. It was at this point that he told me he had been in love with me for years and didn’t want anyone else. By then, I’d had several years to think on it, and had had a handful of rather disappointing experiences with my peers at university. I just could not connect with them on an intellectual level and that reflected in the bedroom. Sherlock and I had always had that sort of connection; we understood one another in ways no one else ever had. He had developed into a striking young man and I wasn’t blind - I knew how attractive he was, and I was honest enough with myself to admit that I could desire him if I allowed myself to. Of course, there was the fact he was my brother and he was underage to boot, so I told him that we had to wait. I was commencing my new role with Her Majesty’s Government and I needed to concentrate, and he needed an opportunity to have experiences with other people. I told him that if he still felt that way once he turned eighteen that we could explore it.”

“What happened?” Greg asked, almost breathless he was so caught up in the story.

“I had returned home for his birthday celebrations, arriving the day prior. He spent the entirety of dinner staring at me, flirting, and being totally inappropriate considering our parents were _right there_. Then he excused himself and took himself off to his room and I didn't see him for the rest of the night. I assumed he would darken my door at the stroke of midnight, but he never came. I went to bed, thinking that he must have changed his mind about how he felt. I have to admit that I was rather disappointed. I finally fell asleep, only to be woken at 3:26 - the exact time of his birth. He climbed into bed with me, telling me he expected me to be pedantic and that I wouldn’t do a thing until he had _officially_ turned eighteen. And then, well...I’m sure you can imagine what occurred.”

Greg could, but he would much rather hear it from Mycroft’s lips. That wasn’t going to happen, which in hindsight was probably a good thing since he’d most likely pop off in his trousers if Mycroft gave details in that sexy voice of his. So instead he nodded, crossed his legs even tighter, and asked, “And you’ve been together since then?”

Mycroft raised a hand and tilted it from side to side. “On and off. What you see of our brotherly relationship is completely genuine. We fight and bicker and collide in a whirl of snarky remarks and cutting insults, only to fall into each other’s arms hours later. It is exhilarating, and exciting, but exhausting and draining. We love each other so deeply that we know every weakness, how to hurt each other the most and when tempers flare, we do lash out. Sometimes it’s hard to forgive those grievances, the hurt is too much. The longest time we’d ever called it off was two years, and in that time my brother developed his drug habit to cope. I knew that if I swept in and pulled him from that life, he would never forgive me. As hard as it was, I needed him to come to me, to ask for help. I felt like he was going to be the death of me I was so worried, but he was the only who literally almost died. He sent me a text, a cry for help, and when I found him in a crack house in the dingiest part of town, he was unconscious and barely breathing. I got him help and he got clean, only to relapse several months later. That was when you first met him, if I recall correctly.” It had to be true - Greg had never known either of the brothers to be unable to remember something accurately. “He got clean much faster that time, and perhaps it was because I was with him the entire time? Then a year later, he relapsed again and that was when you arrested him.”

“Couldn’t believe him,” Greg said with a small smile and shake of his head. “I recognised him from the previous time, and told him I couldn’t let him off with a warning this time, that I was taking him in. He didn’t seem phased and as I walked him out, he pointed at two men that we’d arrested as well, told me they had child porn on their laptops and were both sex offenders. I asked him how he knew, not wanting to even contemplate that he had seen it but he then rattled off his deductions - as he does - making it clear he’d never seen the laptops in question but if we searched their homes, we’d find them. I took a chance and sent officers over there and blimey, if he was right. That git is _always_ right.”

“Not always,” the familiar deep baritone came from the doorway. Greg looked over and saw Sherlock standing there, a paper bag in one hand, a tray of coffee in the other. He looked more hesitant than he’d ever seen him.

“Oh?” Greg teased, hoping to put him at ease. “You’re admitting to being wrong? Can I get that on tape?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, a gesture so familiar that the tension in the room suddenly dropped. He closed the door and then crossed to the small table, laying the bag of food down and pulling out the contents. He handed over a bacon and egg roll to Greg as well as a coffee and he took them gratefully. Sherlock then took the rest of the food and coffees over to the bed, and with a monumental effort sat down, keeping at least a foot between his brother and himself.

“S’alright, Sherlock,” Greg said, waving at the two of them. “I’m fine with it. Really.”

The detective glanced over at him as if to judge the truth of his words, and then he shuffled over until he was sitting flush against his brother. Mycroft took the offered roll and beverage and then gave him a kiss on the cheek. Sherlock blushed, his eyes flickering over to Greg once more, but when he wasn’t met with anger or derision, he ducked his head almost shyly, then reached a hand over and gave Mycroft’s thigh a squeeze. It was the most adorable fucking thing Greg had ever seen and he wanted to do nothing more than sit back and watch them take each other apart. Okay, fine, that might have been a lie - he wanted to watch, yes, but dammit, he wanted to touch and kiss and taste as well. He sighed heavily, allowing his fantasy to dissipate and he unwrapped his roll and took a bite.

Mycroft was regarding him with an intensity that was a little disconcerting, and Greg concentrated on his food, not wanting to give away anymore of his feelings on the matter than he already had. He had enough wank fodder to last him an entire decade at least, and that would have to suffice.

“Sherlock,” Mycroft asked suddenly. “Do you remember the conversation we had on October the 24th, three years ago?”

The detective didn’t seem phased by such an odd question, just cocked his head to one side as he sorted through his memories. He must have found what he was looking for as his mouth dropped open into a little ‘o’ of shock and he nodded, his eyes wide. “Yes,” he said hoarsely.

“Well, it appears that the good detective would be most agreeable to our suggestion.”

The look the younger man directed at Greg could only be described as hungry and the silver haired inspector felt himself shiver beneath it. “Erm, what suggestion would that be?”

“My brother and I have always been exclusive, Gregory,” the diplomat explained. “We have a very...robust...sex life together, and yet there is a fantasy that we share.”

He swallowed hard, his breakfast sitting forgotten in his lap.”Oh?”

The piercing blue gaze of the older brother seemed to take Greg apart piece by piece, until he felt like a pile of lego bricks just waiting to be assembled. “We both admitted to wanting to partake in a threesome. Neither of us were interested in having the third be a random stranger who accepted payment in return for pleasure - no, we both had the same man in mind.”

“Man?”

“Oh yes, neither of us find the fairer sex at all appealing.”

“I see. So, who was it?” Greg wasn’t daft. The almost predatory look both brothers were leveling at him was a clear indicator of who they had thought of, but he wanted ( _needed_ ) to hear them say it. Without direct confirmation, he could not be certain this wasn’t all a glorious dream.

“Why, you of course, my dear Gregory.”

That almost mouse-like squeak didn’t come from him, did it? He looked at them in disbelief, questioning his very sanity. Only last night had he been wallowing in the deep depths of self pity, and today he was being propositioned by two genius ( _sexyhotbeautifuldesireable_ ) brothers. This couldn’t be real, could it? He was obviously just dreaming, or hallucinating. He’d wake up soon and find this had all taken place inside his head and he would go back to being the poor sod whose wife had left him for a younger, fitter man.

“I think we broke him,” Sherlock said clinically, his head cocking to one side as he watched him.

“I suppose it’s rather a lot to take in,” Mycroft mused.

The Consulting Detective rose and crossed to where Greg sat. He pushed the half eaten roll to one side, and moved the coffee to the floor so it wouldn’t spill, and then he clambered up onto Greg’s lap, settling his knees to either side of his legs and looping his arms around his neck. “This is real, Greg,” he said in a sultry voice.

It was the sound of his first name that broke him from his stupour, the sound of it so unfamiliar falling from those lips that it shocked some sense into him. He wanted to ask a million and one questions, but the one that fell inanely from his lips was, “You remembered my name?”

Sherlock leaned forward and dragged his nose along Greg’s cheek, moving until those plush lips were against his ear. “Of _course_ I know your name,” he whispered, hot breath causing goosebumps to break out all over the inspector’s body. “I know everything about you. Well - almost everything. I don’t yet know what your cock feels like between my lips, or the expression on your face as you come, or what you sound like when you beg to have Mycroft’s cock up your arse.” He nipped at Greg’s ear lobe and then sucked it into his mouth, before letting it go and kissing the shell of his ear. “Will you let me learn these things about you, _Greg_?”

A guttural moan escaped from him and Greg felt his cock twitch almost violently in his pants. “Oh, fuck, yes, yes, a million times yes!”

“Lovely,” Sherlock purred, licking a stripe up his throat. And then suddenly he was gone, jumping up and off the DI’s lap. “Well, make sure you clear your schedule for next Saturday,” he said in his usual brusque manner.

Greg’s eyes almost boggled from his head as he tried to catch up with what had just happened. “Wha?”

“That wasn’t gentlemanly, Sherlock,” Mycroft chided his younger brother. He stood from his spot on the bed and crossed to Greg and reached down to cup his face, his thumb gently rubbing along his cheek. “This isn’t something we would rush into lightly, Gregory,” he explained. “We discussed this long ago, but for you, it is very new. You’re not exactly thinking clearly and you need to take some time to mull this over. Besides, checkout is in an hour and would you really want to rush this?”

He shook his head, knowing he wanted more than an hour with these two remarkable men. Still, could he really wait an entire _week_? He looked between the brothers and realised that if he wanted this, he would have to. “I understand. I suppose I should get going then, leave you to your day.”

Mycroft leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. “We’ll let you know the details. Until then, dear Gregory.”

He stood, his legs slightly wobbly, but not from alcohol this time, and nodded once before making his way to the door. He somehow made it back to his own room and he flopped down onto the bed, his mind racing. He could still feel the ghostly breath of Sherlock on his ear and the surprisingly soft lips of Mycroft on his own and knew it was just a taste of what was to come. Unable to hold back any longer, he shoved his trousers down and took his cock in hand, images of what might happen next weekend flashing through his mind . He couldn’t wait.


	3. Checking In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo another chapter written!

Greg had spent the first few days of the week in a daze, but he did his utmost to keep his mind clear whilst at work. It wouldn’t do to be injured by a perp because his mind was too busy thinking about what it would be like to hold Sherlock Holmes down and kiss every inch of him, or what it would feel like to be buried balls deep in his brother’s arse. On Wednesday they had a case come up that involved two kids who had been kidnapped and so he called Sherlock in without hesitation. The sooner they tracked them down, the better, and he managed to shove aside every improper thought he’d ever had about the young genius so they could get to work. It was a frantic few hours but with the Consulting Detective’s help, they found the children before any harm could come to them. As the neighbour was arrested, and the kids were reunited with their terrified parents, Sherlock came and stood next to Greg, just slightly closer than usual. “Meet me at the cafe down the road once you’re done for the day,” he said without making eye contact, and then strode off, coat flapping in the wind. It was the first mention of the unusual situation he’d made all day.

It was several hours later that Greg finished everything that couldn’t wait for tomorrow, and he wrapped his scarf around his neck and headed out to wander down to the cafe. Sherlock was waiting for him patiently, though whether he had been there the entire time, or had just known when the DI would finish up, Greg couldn’t tell. He took a seat opposite him, and looked into those glorious eyes, feeling suddenly shy. “So,” he said, unable to keep the tremor from his voice, “what’s this about then?”

“I wanted to check in with you, see how you were going after the events on Sunday morning.” Sherlock was leaning his elbows on the table, his chin resting on his clasped hands. He looked relaxed, and unperturbed ( _ and hot as hell _ ).

“Um, yeah, I’m good. It’s all good.”

Before he could even blink, one of Sherlock’s hands shot out and linked their fingers together, resting their joined hands on the table between them. Greg blinked slowly, trying to figure out what had just happened (and wondering just how long a direct line between his fingers and his cock had been in operation) . Sherlock continued as if holding hands was the most natural thing in the world for them to do. “I don’t want you getting so worked up that you talk yourself out of it. I’m looking forward very much to next Saturday.”

He frowned a little, trying to determine if there had ever been any hint before that Sherlock desired him, but he couldn’t seem to think of any (outside of his fantasies). He knew he wasn’t as observant as a Holmes brother, but he was a damn good copper so he didn’t think he would have missed the signs. He decided against questioning the change and asked instead, “So, does Mycroft know you’re here. I don’t want him getting upset or jealous by anything.” He gestured to their linked fingers.

The detective quirked a brow at him. “Why would Mycroft be jealous?”

He shrugged self consciously. “I dunno,” he mumbled, suddenly feeling silly. “I just thought maybe he wouldn’t appreciate you meeting me alone.”

“He knows I’m here, Greg, and he had no compunctions about it. We both want you,  _ have _ wanted you for a long time, so me meeting with you to check up on you is nothing for him to be concerned about. I mean you no disrespect -” Greg grunted at this and Sherlock huffed out a laugh, realising that had come from left field. “Okay, so perhaps that’s not something you would take at face value, but I honestly mean it when I say I mean you no disrespect, but Mycroft has absolutely no reason to be jealous. I will never leave him for you or anyone else, and I know he will never leave me. We...tried, a time or two, to be separate, to only have a familial relationship, but...well, it did not end well. I cannot live without him and would never do anything to jeopardise that.”

Greg nodded. “He did tell me a little about your past together.”

Sherlock sighed a little wistfully. “He took so long to convince.”

“You were thirteen!”

“Yes, and he made me wait  _ five _ years. My mind was never going to change and we could have had this for so much longer!”

Greg shook his head, wondering how Mycroft had put up with the younger man for so long, but he supposed being brothers he really didn’t have a choice. Plus, there was the little matter of Sherlock being fucking gorgeous. “Let me assure you now, I will never try and come between you and your brother. I know it would be redundant since neither of you would ever allow it, but I want you to know I would never try it anyway. I get that this is a one time deal.”

“Who said anything about it being a one time deal?” the detective rumbled in his deep baritone.

“Um, well, I just assumed…”

“Detective Inspector, did your mother never teach you what happens when you assume?”

He blushed. “Yeah, but, I just figured you’d get your kicks and then that would be it.”

It was Sherlock’s turn to shake his head and he looked...disappointed? “I know we’re considered heartless by most, but do you honestly think we would be that callous? That we’d use you like some rent boy and then throw you to the curb?”

The brutally honest part of Greg hidden deep down in his core had thought this was  _ exactly _ how it would go. “Erm…”

The sigh the curly haired man gave this time was much louder and much more exasperated. “You silly fool. Yes, we can be bastards, but if that’s what we wanted, we would have used an escort service. We chose you, because, well, you’re  _ you _ . It’s  _ not _ just because we’re attracted to you, but because we both enjoy your company and I don’t want to throttle you every five seconds.”

“You flatter me,” he sniped, but was secretly pleased.

“We’re going into this with an open mind. If we all enjoy ourselves, why  _ wouldn’t  _ we make it a recurring thing? Sure, if any of us become uncomfortable, or we find we’re not into it, then we say thank you very much and part amicably. I have a feeling that that’s not what’s going to happen though.”

“Oh? And just what exactly do you think is going to happen?”

Sherlock grinned ferally at him. “Oh, I think we’re going to blow your mind. I think you’ll be reduced to a quivering, whimpering mess, begging for release. I think we’re going to  _ ruin _ you.”

Greg swallowed heavily, but rallied, not wanting the cocky bastard to think they’d have the upper hand. “Sherlock, I think you forget that I am  _ much _ older than you, and I have had many years of experience, with multiple partners. You might be surprised to find that come Saturday night, it’s  _ you _ who is a quivering mess, begging for my touch, my mouth, my cock.” He saw those gorgeous blue-green eyes darken with lust at his words. “I know exactly what it takes to make a man scream out my name as he comes; I know just what buttons to press to make you beg and moan for more; I know how to keep you balanced on the edge until you think you’ll absolutely  _ die _ if you don’t get to come right that very moment. Don’t you underestimate me, Sherlock Holmes, because I will ruin  _ you _ .” He reached under the table and ran a hand up the tailored suit until he found the bulge he knew would be there. He ran his hand lightly over it, causing Sherlock to shiver in delight. “But don’t you worry, Sunshine - I’m going to take such good care of you. Me and your brother will break you apart piece by piece but then we’re going to put you back together again.”

Sherlock shoved the chair back and stood abruptly. “Outside -  _ now _ ,” he said between gritted teeth.

They made their way outside and into a dark alley a few doors down. They had only gone a few metres in when Greg was shoved back against the wall unceremoniously and then Sherlock’s lips were pressed against his, teeth and tongues clashing as he was snogged to within an inch of his life. A firm knee was pressed between his thighs and he had a flashback to seeing the brothers in a similar situation. He turned his head to the side, breaking the kiss, and panted out, “Wait, what about Mycroft?”

Sherlock nodded behind him and then lowered his lips to Greg’s neck. “Enjoying the show,” he said.

Greg glanced up and saw a CCTV camera trained on them and a visual of Mycroft sitting at his large mahogany desk flashed before his eyes. “Oh, fuck. Does he like to watch?” He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and he fished it out, thumbing the screen unlocked and seeing a text from none other than Mycroft Holmes.

_ I do enjoy watching, but I prefer to participate. I’d appreciate if your hands stayed off bare skin until we’re all together - MH _

Sherlock was sucking at his throat in a way that was making Greg’s knees weak and he let his head thump back against the brick. One of Sherlock’s hands had snaked around to his back and was groping Greg’s arse, and then working at untucking his shirt. He felt his phone vibrate again and he opened the message app.

_ Please tell my brother I’d appreciate if  _ **_his_ ** _ hands stayed off bare skin as well - MH _

Greg laughed and then showed his phone screen to Sherlock when he leaned back to see what was so funny. He scowled at the message and then turned around and pulled his middle finger at the camera. 

“Oi, none of that!” Greg chided him, batting his arm down. “It’s only fair that we wait till we can  _ all _ play.”

Sherlock  _ whined _ and blood rushed southwards to Greg’s cock at the sheer sound of neediness in the younger man’s voice. Over him! He hadn’t felt this desired since the days he picked up a different person every night at the clubs in his early twenties. Gone were the insecurities about his age, his hair, and his intelligence. Sherlock  _ and _ Mycroft Bloody Holmes wanted  _ him _ , and in only a few more days, were going to have their merry way with him. He grasped Sherlock’s face between both hands and kissed him exuberantly. “Patience, Sunshine. Not long to wait now.”

“Patience is not one of my virtues unfortunately,” Sherlock grumbled.

Greg’s phone buzzed again and he laughed as he read:

_ It really isn’t - MH _

“You two are going to be the death of me,” he said fondly, rearranging himself in his trousers so he’d be presentable when they got back into view of the general public.

“Hopefully not before we’ve both had you - once, or twice, or more,” the younger man replied with a wink.

“I’ll try to keep my poor heart beating for that long,” Greg promised. “Right, have you got any plans for the next hour or so? I’m going to head back to the cafe to have some dinner, and you’re welcome to join me.”

Sherlock looked at his watch and then glanced over at the camera. “Mycroft won’t be finished for a while yet, so it sounds good.” He gestured to the entrance of the dingy alley. “Lead the way.”


	4. Texting

Greg didn’t see either brother again over the next couple of days, but he did keep in touch with them via text, and learned much more than he ever thought he would.

_Thursday 09:34 - Mycroft has reminded me that I got distracted last night and didn’t inform you that John is not aware of the intricacies of our relationship. If you could keep that tidbit to yourself it would be appreciated - SH_

_Thursday 09:47 - Even if he did know, Sherlock, I wouldn’t discuss this with him anyway. It’s none of his business - GL_

_Thursday 09:49 - I’ve witnessed first hand the two of you gossiping like old women over Donovan and Anderson’s clandestine affair so I assumed this would be no different - SH_

_Thursday 10:01 - Did your mother never teach you what happened when you assume? - GL_

_Thursday 10:03 - Have I ever told you that I hate you? - SH_

_Thursday 10:06 - Quite often, actually, but you seem to still want to shag me so you can’t hate me_ **_that_ ** _much - GL_

_Thursday 10:17 - Continue like this and I may be driven to that point - SH_

_Thursday 10:20 - I call your bluff - you want my sexy arse too much - GL_

_Thursday 10:31 - Not just your arse...SH_

_Thursday 10:44 - Good to know - GL_

_Thursday 11:12 - Thank you for keeping this to yourself - SH_

_~~~~~_

_Thursday 18:10 - When you get home, Gregory, you will find an envelope containing the results for our latest round of testing for your information - MH_

_Thursday 18:21 - Yep, just got in the door and have found it. What’s this other form for? - GL_

_Thursday 18:25 - It’s a declaration stating you are happy for your doctor to release your test results to me._

_Thursday 18:26 - Erm...I don’t think that’s quite legal - GL_

_Thursday 18:29 - When has that ever bothered me? Do you have anything to hide, Gregory? - MH_

_Thursday 18:31 - NO! But that’s not the point!_

_Thursday 18:36 - If you do not wish to disclose the results, that is your choice. If however you do, and you are clean, then we can forgo those pesky condoms. I will not compromise the safety of my brother, no matter how much we trust you otherwise - MH_

_Thursday 18:49 - I get that, I do, and I have nothing to hide - GL_

_Thursday 18:52 - But? - MH_

_Thursday 19:02 - But I’m a copper - it rubs me the wrong way when you shove it in my face how easily you ignore the law - GL_

_Thursday 19:07 - Apologies, Gregory, I didn’t mean to offend you. Would you prefer me to shove something else in your face? - MH_

_Thursday 19:16 - Really? You’re going to go for innuendo at a time like this? - GL_

_Thursday 19:21 - I thought I’d give it a bash. Did it work? - MH_

_Thursday 19:31 - God help me, but it did. I’ll sign your damn form, but come Saturday night I want all you’ve got shoved in my face, understood? - GL_

_Thursday 19:33 - Perfectly and with pleasure - MH_

_Thursday 19:34 - Cad - GL_

_Thursday 19:36 - Guilty. Are you going to arrest me? - MH_

_Thursday 19:38 - Do you have a handcuff kink? - GL_

_Thursday 19:40 - I think I have a Detective Inspector kink - MH_

_Thursday 19:44 - I believe you require a good frisking - GL_

_Thursday 19:45 - I do hope you’ll be thorough - MH_

_Thursday 19:47 - Are you implying I don’t do my job right? - GL_

_Thursday 19:51 - Hypothetically, if I_ **_was_ ** _saying that, would my arrest be a little rougher than usual? - MH_

_Thursday 19:55 - I can manhandle with the best of them when required - GL_

_Thursday 19:59 - I believe that will certainly be required - MH_

_Thursday 20:01 - And the plot thickens - GL_

 

_Thursday 20:49 - Please feel free to text Mycroft whenever you’d like since I seem to reap the benefits. I have just been very thoroughly shagged - SH_

_Thursday 20:54 - Glad I could be of assistance. Now that I have that visual, I think_ _I’m going to need a very long shower - GL_

_Thursday 20:58 - Happy wanking ;-) - SH_

_~~~~~~~_

_Friday 10:08 - Greg, I’m bored! - SH_

_Friday 10:10 - I’m stuck under a load of paperwork here, you can always come and help since you’ve caused most of it - GL_

_Friday 10:13 - Urgh, I don’t want to do paperwork. Entertain me! - SH_

_Friday 10:16 - How do you suggest I do that? - GL_

_Friday 10:17 - Tell me about what you did in the shower last night - SH_

_Friday 10:21 - Sherlock, I’m at work and I’m busy. Can’t you sext with your brother instead? - GL_

_Friday 10:22 - He’s apparently trying to prevent some war somewhere and refuses to answer me. BORING - SH_

_Friday 10:28 - Gee, how dare he get his priorities wrong! - GL_

_Friday 10:31 - I’m going to ignore your sarcastic undertones and take your message at face value - yes, it is a travesty! - SH_

_Friday 10:35 - With your flare for the dramatic, you would have made a good actor - GL_

_Friday 10:37 - I excel at anything I put my mind to - SH_

_Friday 10:41 - Does that include leaving me alone so I get my work finished? - GL_

_Friday 10:43 - Not until you tell me about what you did in the shower - SH_

_Friday 10:44 - I had a wank, Sherlock, you already know this - GL_

_Friday 10:45 - Details, Greg, details! - SH_

_Friday 10:47 - What the hell do you want to know? That I thought of you while I was stroking myself? That I wished that it was your hand on my cock? - GL_

_Friday 10:48 - What else? Did you use conditioner to smooth the way? Was it just your cock you touched, or did your fingers find their way elsewhere? - SH_

_Friday 10:50 - Yes, I used conditioner, since shampoo gets too foamy. And last night it didn’t take me long since thinking of you and Mycroft fucking is so damn hot that I didn’t need much to get me off. I do rather like a good fingering during a wank normally though- GL_

_Friday 10:51 - I can’t wait to suck your cock, Greg. I want to sink to my knees before you and take it as deep as I can, have you fist your hands in my hair and fuck my face - SH_

_Friday 10:53 - Jesus fucking Christ, Sherlock, are you_ **_trying_ ** _to make me hard at work? - GL_

_Friday 10:54 - I’m already hard and am sitting here stroking myself, so I figured you could join me - SH_

_Friday 10:56 -_ **_I’M AT WORK!_ ** _\- GL_

_Friday 10:57 - And? Lock your office door, or go to the bathroom - SH_

_Friday 10:59 - My office walls are made of glass, you git, and I refuse to have a wank in the loo at work - GL_

_Friday 11:03 - Shame, we could have seen if we could come at the same time - SH_

_Friday 11:05 - Now it’s me who hates you - GL_

_Friday 11:12 - Sherlock? - GL_

_Friday 11:18 - I didn’t mean it - I was joking - GL_

_Friday 11:22 - I know that, Greg. I might have made a bit of a mess and had to wash my hair…- SH_

_Friday 11:24 - You came in your hair??? - GL_

_Friday 11:25 - What can I say? Thinking of sucking your dick made me a little excited - SH_

_Friday 11:26 - Yep, you’re going to be the death of me - GL_

_Friday 11:28 - Fun way to die though - SH_

_~~~~~~_

_Friday 16:44 - Can I assume that you haven’t changed your mind about tomorrow night? - MH_

_Friday 16:46 - I see your mother didn’t teach you about making assumptions either - GL_

_Friday 16:47 - ??? - MH_

_Friday 16:50 - Nevermind. Um, yeah, still on if you’ll have me - GL_

_Friday 16:53 - Oh, we’ll still have you, Gregory, multiple times in multiple ways - MH_

_Friday 16:55 - I’m looking forward to it - GL_

_Friday 16:58 - As are we. I’ll send a car for you at about 5 - MH_

_Friday 17:04 - Ta for that - GL_

_Friday 17:08 - My pleasure. Oh, and Gregory? - MH_

_Friday 17:09 - Yeah? - GL_

_Friday 17:10 - Pack an overnight bag - once we get you in our bed, I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere - MH_


	5. Assumptions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What the fuck? How did feelings come into this?

Five o’clock was rapidly approaching and Greg stood nervously in front of the mirror, fussing with his hair. Why the hell was it choosing tonight of all nights to stick up in every different direction? He ran his hands under the tap and then ruffled his silver locks once again, trying to bring some sort of order to the chaos ( _though why bother when it’ll be mussed soon enough anyway?_ ). He had dressed and changed half a dozen times, finally settling on a pair of old jeans that clung to his arse the way only a well worn pair could, and a black knit top. He knew it might come across as overly casual but he was going there to fuck, not have a job interview. Well...that wasn’t _quite_ true, was it? If all went well, he might be asked back and he knew already that he wanted that more than anything. He had felt like a giddy teenager this past week, flirting and teasing, the anticipation building to a crescendo until he felt like he was going to burst.

He heard the honk of a car horn and he switched off the bathroom light, grabbed his overnight bag from off his bed and headed outside, trying to leave all his fears, insecurities, and nerves behind. The driver greeted him courteously and there was no hint that he had any inkling of what Greg was going there for, even though he had functioning eyes and could see the overnight bag. He supposed the man was well paid for his discretion and knew the consequences of blabbing. The DI was still of the opinion that Mycroft held the power to deport people at will, and anyone who broke his trust would certainly qualify for being relocated. He only hoped that people who disappointed him in the bedroom wouldn’t make that list as well...dammit, why was he suddenly so fucking nervous? For all his bravado the other day with Sherlock, he felt like a quivering mess right now and not for sexy reasons.

He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and tried to calm himself down. Right, time to be logical - just what was freaking him out so much? Right, well first off, the brothers were two of the smartest people on the planet and Greg, well, wasn’t. _They approached YOU, so they obviously find you worthy_ . Ah, right, thanks for that, helpful inner voice of reason. Okay, secondly, I can’t keep anything hidden from them; they can read me like an open book. _You’re going to be naked so there won’t be much hidden anyway. Besides, if they can essentially read your mind, it should make the sex pretty fucking spectacular_. Well, there was that. The he came to the most pressing reason, the nitty gritty at the heart of the matter - if they weren’t happy with his performance, there wouldn’t be a repeat. Tonight could be the one and only time he ever got to experience this.

He waited, listening for that helpful inner voice of reason, but it remained silent. He probed about and found it skulking in the corner. _Maybe a one time thing would be best for everyone?_ it whispered to him. _You fall so easily...do you really need another broken heart?_

What the actual fuck, brain? Whose side are you on? He fumed at his extremely _unhelpful_ voice of _whatever the fuck the opposite of reason was because he was too thrown by that little self discovery to come up with the damn word_ . This was a casual shag, nothing else. He _knew_ this, he _wanted_ this, there was no reason to even contemplate getting _attached_ . He’d successfully had many one night stands when he was younger and he never fell head over heels for any of them. _Yes, but you didn’t know them, did you? You hadn’t worked with them, hadn’t lusted over them for years, hadn’t saved their life and had them save yours time and time again, you hadn’t seen them proclaim to be high functioning sociopaths and then go out of their way to be kind to someone when they thought no one was looking_.

He crossed his arms and glared out the window, cursing his stupid brain. Now was _not_ the time to be dwelling on his _feelings_. He was supposed to be jittery with need, so turned on by the prospect of the evening that he should be worried about coming in his pants at just the sight of the brothers. Instead, he now worried he wouldn’t even be able to get it up he was so worked up over his stupid emotional baggage. The car was slowing down and they were pulling up in front of a rather grand house and Greg seriously contemplated asking the driver to just turn around and take him home. But time seemed to speed up and before he even knew what was happening he was standing in front of the door and the car was driving down the road and his hand was raised to knock, but the door was already swinging open.

Mycroft stood before him and he looked absolutely _edible_. He was dressed in casual trousers and a soft, cashmere jumper that made his blue eyes absolutely sparkle. He took Greg’s hand and tugged him inside, then the door was closing and he had pushed the DI gently against it. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Greg’s in a slow, sensual kiss that the silver haired man only half heartedly returned. Mycroft pulled back, a concerned crease forming between his eyes. “Gregory? What’s wrong?” he asked, his eyes searching his face.

“He’s been bloody overthinking things,” Sherlock said in exasperation from where he had appeared in the large foyer. “I told you I was worried he’d talk himself out of it.”

Mycroft shot an annoyed look over his shoulder. “ _Not_ helpful, brother mine.”

“I should go,” Greg stammered, half turning. “Sorry.”

A hand caught his shoulder and gently turned him back. “Not so fast, Gregory. Come and sit down so we can talk.” Those glorious blue eyes had speared him open and were reading all of his secrets.

He felt his cheeks flaming and he shook his head. “Please, just let me go home. I’ve already made a fool out of myself - no need to make it worse.”

Sherlock appeared directly behind Mycroft. “Making a fool of yourself is standard operating procedure for you, Greg, so you should really be used to it.” Before Greg could protest, Sherlock had squeezed himself between his brother and the DI and his long, slender hands were curling against Greg’s hips. He leaned forward and kissed his throat almost chastely, and then whispered, “We _know_ Greg, and it’s part of the appeal. We _want_ this to go further. Stop fretting.”

His eyes widened a little at this and he twisted his face away so he could look at both brothers without the distraction of Sherlock’s lips on him. “What do you mean?”

Mycroft sighed and held out his hand. “Can we please come and sit down? I really don’t think it appropriate to have this discussion in the doorway.”

Greg nodded slowly and took the proffered hand, following Mycroft through to a well appointed sitting room with Sherlock at his back. There was a large, comfortable looking couch and several armchairs but the eldest brother led them all to the couch. They sat, with Greg in the middle, and the brother’s flanking him in a way that felt almost possessive. Sherlock hooked one leg up over Greg’s knee and leaned against him, and Mycroft was sitting with his thigh pressed against his own, their hands still clasped firmly together.

“We’ve not been entirely honest with you, Gregory,” Mycroft admitted.

“Oh?”

He looked bashful and even Sherlock managed to look contrite. “Yes, well, perhaps we had ulterior motives for this evening’s festivities.”

“That doesn’t really explain anything,” Greg pointed out.

Sherlock huffed a little and then spoke, his head resting against Greg’s shoulder and sending vibrations down through his chest. “What my brother is alluding to is that this was never just about sex for us. When we say we’ve wanted you for years, it means we _wanted_ you, _all_ of you. We want you to be part of _us_.”

“Sherlock,” Greg whispered, hoping he was understanding correctly. “Are you saying that you both want a relationship with me?”

“Obviously.” It was missing the usual snark, and seemed almost...fond?

“We hadn’t wanted to push you so quickly,” Mycroft said, rubbing his thumb almost absently along the back of Greg’s hand. “You’ve only just separated from your wife, and although we both saw that you had developed feelings for Sherlock, we assumed that you wouldn’t want anything more serious than a casual fling for now.”

“Yes, yes, Mummy was crap at teaching us about making assumptions,” Sherlock chimed in before Greg could remark about it.

The older man found himself chuckling and he leaned all the way back on the couch. The brothers followed him and he was suddenly being cuddled from both sides. It was rather nice. “So we all seem to want the same thing, yet none of us could manage to say it. I thought you two were supposed to be geniuses?”

“We are - it’s the emotional side of things that we’re shit at,” Sherlock retorted.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Sunshine. I’ve seen the way you and Mycroft look at each other. It’s clear you love each other very much.”

The brother’s exchanged a look, and Greg was almost overwhelmed by the sheer depth of their feelings for each other. He was sure he should have felt like an intruder to that, but instead he felt like he was included, albeit just on the outskirts. What would it feel like to be fully encompassed by it? To be loved and cherished to the same degree? He could honestly say that he had never experienced anything like it in his life, even back when his marriage was new, and he hungered for it, to belong to these two wonderful men.

Mycroft’s words suddenly registered and Greg looked over to the eldest brother. “It’s not just Sherlock I have feelings for. I mean, I won’t deny that I’ve had a thing for him for years, but I’ve always admired and respected you, Mycroft. This past week I’ve discovered another side of you though and I like it very much.”

The diplomat smiled and trailed a delicate finger down Greg’s cheek. “I know.”

He huffed. “Of course you bloody do.”

Sherlock laughed. “You might need to get used to that if you’re going to be with us.” He paused, and Greg could feel his warm breath against his collarbone. “You _are_ going to be with us, aren’t you?” It was shy and hesitant and again Greg was struck by how adorable the genius could be - when he wasn’t being a towering prat that is.

“I would very much like that,” he said softly. “If you’ll have me of course.”

Mycroft’s lips were at his jaw now and he was pressing kisses along it, moving towards his mouth. “I believe I’ve already told you, Gregory, that we are going to have you many times, and in many different ways.”

Greg’s breath hitched and he was suddenly ready. “So what are we waiting for? I’m all yours.”


	6. Playtime

Any concerns Greg may have had about being a third wheel, only there as an afterthought, were quickly allayed. The brothers seemed to be focused solely on him for now, and he closed his eyes as he allowed the sensations to wash over him. They hadn’t moved from the couch, but Sherlock and Mycroft had both moved, manoeuvering Greg to how they wanted him positioned. Mycroft was sitting with his back against one armrest, with Greg nestled between his legs, his back pressed to the diplomat’s chest. Mycroft’s mouth was busy kissing and sucking at the DI’s neck, whilst his hands roamed down over his chest, tweaking his nipples through the knit material. Sherlock was kneeling at the other end of the couch, bent over Greg and trailing his hands over his legs. He seemed fascinated with Greg’s muscular thighs and he thanked his years of playing football for keeping him in shape. 

Then a hand was ghosting over the bulge in his jeans, but he couldn’t tell who is belonged to. He opened his eyes, and saw that the slender hand belonged to his human cushion, with Sherlock watching in wide eyed delight as his brother stroked Greg through his jeans. Then Sherlock was climbing up onto Greg’s lap, taking hold of his face and kissing him, his lips soft and insistent, tasting like tea and vanilla. He licked along the seam of Greg’s lips, and the older man happily parted them, allowing the probing tongue inside. He gasped a little as Mycroft’s hand worked its way in between his jeans, wriggling down until those delicate fingers were wrapping around the hot flesh of his cock. His hips tried to buck up, but Sherlock’s weight on top of him kept him down. 

Then Sherlock’s lips were leaving his, kissing his way over Greg’s cheek, and then Mycroft was leaning forward and their mouths met. Greg let himself slump back against Mycroft, his head resting on his shoulder as he watched the brother’s kiss. Pre-ejaculate pulsed from his cock at the sight, still as hot as is was the first time he had witnessed it a week ago. This time though he was allowed to touch, and taste, and he ran a hand up Sherlock’s side, moving it under the button down he wore, feeling the silky soft skin beneath. The detective wasn’t as thin as he looked, more lean than anything, and although his ribs were defined, his stomach was hard and flat. 

Mycroft turned his head, breaking the kiss with Sherlock and seeking out Greg’s lips. They kissed briefly, the angle not the best, and then Mycroft was tutting in his ear and saying, “We’re all wearing far too many clothes.”

Sherlock leaned back, eyeing the two men before him hungrily. “Perhaps we should move to the bedroom?” he suggested in his rumbly voice, which sounded much deeper than it normally did. The sound caused Greg’s cock to twitch yet again, and Mycroft’s hand tightened just a little around it as he continued to stroke as best he could within the confines of the jeans. 

“I believe that sounds like an excellent idea,” the eldest brother agreed. “Gregory?”

“What could be better than being naked on a bed together?” he said in a rather breathy voice.

“Oh, I can think of a few things,” Sherlock purred, leaning down to nip at Greg’s lips.

“Oh, fuck, yeah, we need to get to a bedroom,  _ now _ .”

Sherlock climbed off of both Greg and the couch and reached out a hand to help him up. They then pulled Mycroft to his feet but didn’t get very far as they stood in a small huddle, kissing and touching everywhere they could. Mycroft seemed to be the most sensible one of them all, and he kept trying to guide them out of the sitting room, towards the stairs, but Greg and Sherlock were both so caught up in tasting and touching everywhere they could that they didn’t quite follow his prompts. A few minutes later they hadn’t even made it to the doorway as yet, Greg having found that when he kissed Sherlock’s ear that if he flicked his tongue inside, the detective made the most delicious of sounds.

There was a polite cough from next to them, and they broke apart to see that Mycroft had shed every item of clothing he’d been wearing, and was holding his boxer briefs up with one finger. “Once you’re done there, boys, I’ll be waiting for you upstairs,” he said in a sultry voice, and then he flung the underwear to one side and turned and  _ strutted _ from the room, his pert arse bouncing enticingly as he went. Greg watched him go, his mouth gaping open at the sight, his brain seeming to cease functioning. Next to him, Sherlock seemed to be in no better a state. “ _ Nghk, _ ” was all the detective managed to utter.

Greg swallowed hard. “Your brother is sex personified, Sherlock. Did you know that?”

The curly haired man nodded slowly, his eyes blown wide with desire. “Oh, yes. No matter how much he tries to hide it behind his Iceman persona, I always know it’s there, waiting for me.”

“How do you get through the day without a constant hard on?”

He shook his head slightly. “With Mycroft doing  _ that _ ? I don’t, Greg. I just have a very good tailor who can hide such things.”

“Must have been an interesting conversation.”

“One that I do not like to dwell upon.”

“No, neither would I.”

“It was rather awkward.”

“Sherlock?”

“Yes?”

“Why the fuck are we still down here when your sexy as fuck and totally naked brother  _ is not _ ?”

“Good question, Greg. Perhaps we should remedy that?”

They grinned suddenly at each other and Sherlock darted across to the stairs, bounding up them with Greg hot on his heels. They were trying their best to pull off their clothes as they went but were moving too fast to do much at all. By the time they had come to a halt in the doorway to one of the upstairs rooms, Sherlock had most of the buttons on his shirt undone, and all Greg had accomplished was unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. 

“ _ Nghk, _ ” Greg uttered this time as he took in the sight of Mycroft spread out on the bed, a long, slender cock hard against his pale stomach and one hand stroking it lazily.

He raised an eyebrow at the two latecomers. “Here I was thinking I’d have to take care of myself,” he drawled.

“Never, brother mine,” Sherlock assured him, ripping his shirt from his shoulders, kicking off his trousers, and hurrying across to the bed. He crawled up until he was kneeling above Mycroft’s legs and then ducked his head down and licked a stripe up the underside of his brother’s dick. His pink tongue darted out again, lapping this time at the head, and then Sherlock wrapped his lips around the crown and began to slowly sink down the length. Mycroft’s head sank back onto the pillows, a small sigh of pleasure escaping from his slightly parted lips. 

Greg stripped off his own clothing, kicking it to one side and then approached the bed. One of Mycroft’s hands reached out blindly for him and he took it, allowing himself to be guided up onto the bed next to him. He crouched over him and kissed him hard, and then shuffled forward on his knees until the tip of his own erection was just brushing against Mycroft’s lips. He grasped his cock firmly so he could move it back and forth over the diplomat’s mouth, painting it with his pre-come. Sherlock surged up from his position and claimed Mycroft in a searing kiss, then licked his way over his lips, cleaning them of Greg’s taste. He gestured for Greg to do it again, and he did, his cock dribbling almost constantly already. Mycroft licked his full bottom lip this time, and Sherlock kissed the top one clean, then moved back down to take his brother’s cock back into his own mouth. The eldest brother opened his ice blue eyes and they flicked down to look at Greg’s cock, and he licked his lips again. “Want some more, do you?” Greg said in a dirty little whisper.

“ _ Please _ ,” Mycroft begged, and that was all the permission Greg needed to slip his cock past those beautiful lips and into the wet heat beyond. He moaned as Mycroft swallowed around him, his tongue working against his shaft. Sherlock must have done something that felt amazing, as Mycroft moaned this time, and his body jerked, causing Greg’s cock to slip further down his throat. The diplomat didn’t seem to have much of a gag reflex and he grabbed hold of the DI’s arse, urging him to fuck his mouth. Greg allowed his hips to thrust on their own accord, pushing his cock in and out of of the sensuous mouth. 

Sherlock was reaching for the tube of lube Mycroft had already positioned on the end of the bed and Greg watched with hungry eyes as he coated his cock, and then smeared the rest over Mycroft’s entrance. Mycroft was sucking softly on his cock, but he couldn’t look away from the sight before him. Sherlock lined himself up and slowly, ever so slowly, pushed his way inside. Mycroft’s mouth tightened around Greg’s cock as his back arched a little, a throaty moan escaping from his lips as his eyes closed in pleasure. Sherlock rocked into his brother a few times, and then reached out and pulled at the back of the DI’s neck, dragging him in for a needy kiss. “Greg, please, come fuck me,” he whispered.

“ _ Oh _ .” That was  _ not _ something he had been anticipating tonight, but as soon as the suggestion was made, he knew he wanted it more than anything. Mycroft seemed to want it as well as he immediately released Greg’s prick from his mouth to allow him to move into position. “Um, I haven’t done this for ages,” he said, hesitantly. “I’m not sure if I even remember how to prep someone.”

Sherlock grinned at him. “Lucky for you, Mycroft fucks me often. Just lube up, and go slow - won’t need to do anything else.”

“Ah, right.” He did as he was told and then he crawled into place behind Sherlock, placing his knees carefully amongst the pile of limbs. The curly haired detective had slowed his thrusts and then stopped entirely once Greg was ready. His hands were shaking slightly, and it took a couple of tries before he had himself lined up right and could push inside. He felt Sherlock bear down, helping him along and soon he was buried inside his tight, hot passage. Greg let his head drop down onto Sherlock’s shoulder, staying still until the younger man had adjusted, and the risk of him shooting off immediately had passed. Another minute went by and then Mycroft was growling at them. “If the both of you don’t start to move again very soon, I’m going to be horribly cross with you!”

Sherlock leaned down to kiss the scowl off Mycroft’s face, Greg moving with him so he wouldn’t slip out. “Stop being a grumble bum,” he chided, but rocked his hips again to placate his brother.

They began to move, finding a rhythm that worked after a short while, Sherlock thrusting into Mycroft and then rocking backwards to impale himself on Greg’s cock. The room was silent bar the slick slide of flesh on flesh, the moans of pleasure and encouragement, and their harsh breathing. Sherlock’s back was covered in a light sheen of sweat, and Greg licked a stripe up his spine, tasting the detective. 

One knee started to act up after a while, and Greg crouched up a little to adjust the pressure, and Sherlock suddenly cried out - the new angle brushing against a sensitive bundle of nerves inside. 

“Do that again,” Sherlock begged, and Greg hurried to comply. The sounds that were being wrung from the younger man’s throat were having a profound effect on the other two men, and Greg could feel the familiar pressure building in his balls as his orgasm approached. Mycroft had reached a hand down between himself and his brother, his arm moving constantly, and Greg felt a pang of regret that he couldn’t see him jerking himself off from where he was kneeling. And then the diplomat was crying out, spilling his release over his hand, and setting off a chain reaction. His spasming muscles clenched around Sherlock’s cock, which was all that he needed to be pushed over the edge as well, and then it was his arse clamping down tightly on Greg’s prick that had the DI thrusting hard and fast, chasing his own release. When he came, Greg cried out, his vision whiting out for a moment due to the overwhelming pleasure that coursed through his body. 

Then, the three of them were gently untangling themselves, and passing tissues around, and cleaning themselves off, before they slumped down in a heap, Greg and Sherlock on either side of Mycroft. They shared sweet kisses, and gentle caresses, and Greg couldn’t stop smiling. “That was amazing,” he muttered, his hand tangling with Sherlock’s on top of Mycroft’s stomach.

“And it was only round one,” Sherlock said with a sleepy smile.

“Round one?”

“Mmm, the night is young.”

“Yes, but I’m not.”

“Don’t fret, Gregory dear,” Mycroft assured him. “We’ll take care of you.”

Sherlock yawned widely and he nuzzled his face against Mycroft’s chest. “Why don’t we have a nap, and we can take up this discussion later?”

“I had been planning on making dinner,” the eldest brother commented.

“Sod dinner,” the younger proclaimed.

“Gregory?” Mycroft asked, turning to him for an impartial opinion.

He was much too comfortable at the moment to move, and thought a nap sounded like a great idea. “I agree - sod dinner.” Then a hand was threading it’s way through his hair, his eyes fluttered closed, and he was falling asleep, more happy that he could ever imagine at making such an unexpected discovery. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this was a fun little snippet to write :) I do hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> If you adore Mylock but find you don't have anyone in real life who won't judge you for it, why not join our FB group? It's one of those 'secret' affairs so no one can see you're a member, and we spend our time sharing pics of our boys, fic recs, our own fanart and stories, and just generally swooning over the brothers. It's very friendly and accepting, with people from all over the world. If you'd like to join, drop me an email at scarletmanuka1@gmail.com and I'll send you an email invite to the group. If the address you email me from isn't the one you use for FB, just make sure you include it in the email so I use the right one for the invite.


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